


the color of your heart

by daylightisbreaking (wingless)



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Mind Control, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Face-Fucking, Groping, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingless/pseuds/daylightisbreaking
Summary: "And I need you to take me out of my own head. To get me to just... stop thinking, and get away from everything that's going on right now for a little while. Just for tonight."





	the color of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> **me, foolish, never learning my lesson:** man i wanna write some quick porn, you know, just quickly get this out of my system so i can go back to the Serious Writing that takes actual brainpower [3 months and 5k words of all setup and no action later] well shit
> 
> i'm glad there's so much content of belial using his canon mind control/charm powers for sexy purposes, because if there wasn't we'd be a failure as a society. but i also thought not enough of it involves djeeta so here's my self-indulgent contribution. enjoy.
> 
> also, as a small note of warning: i didn't use any non-con tags and did tag this as consensual mind control because it technically is, but what's depicted here isn't a 100% safe variation on this particular practice. and it is written with the idea in mind that there are at the very least some iffy, uncomfortable, questionable aspects to what's happening here. just something i felt i need to clarify about the contents here.

It's well into late evening, the usual buzz of the Grandcypher crew slowly fading into silence, when the Singularity finally slips into her room with a sigh. You're more than a little amused when she pulls the doorknob without even attempting to use her key, as if having forgotten that she locked it when she last left her room, and does not take notice nor react to how it opens without any resistance in spite of this.

In fact, she barely seems to take notice of anything— including you, which is pretty ridiculous, with how you're lying spread all over her bed, as blatant and provocative a greeting as can be. Nope, she just goes through the door without even looking your way before turning around, her back facing you, and starts to take off her armor— at once lethargic and hurried, clearly itching to be rid of its heavy weight but too tired to rush the process as she'd want to.

There's something quite charming in her being so absent-minded in her exhaustion, and you wait a bit for her to take notice, wonder how much you can test your luck. You're mildly disappointed when she stops at her armor and doesn't continue to undress. The seconds pass by in this silence, and then minutes— with her back turned to you, you can't see her face, but from the angle she seems to be staring down at the armor she plopped carelessly down on her shelf. Your brief window of time before she notices you're here is closing, so you take the opportunity before it can be missed.

"'Evening, Captain." you say casually, and are _not _disappointed when she jumps, her hand reaching for the handle of her sword right as she turns around and catches sight of you, then instantly deflates.

"Oh," she says, blinking. "Belial. You're here."

"You didn't think the door unlocked on its own, did you?" You watch her process that— first with confusion, then with a thoughtful frown, then surprise as she looks over at the door with a little _oh—_ and tut at her, playfully: "How careless of you, Captain, not to take notice of these things."

She looks back from the door to you, then to the door again, and makes a noncommittal noise, running her hand through her hair. "Yeah. Guess so."

That absent, dull tone of voice is so unrecognizable you might be talking to a stranger. It's one thing that she's used enough to your provocations to be unfazed by them, but this complete non-reaction is nothing like her. "What's up? Where's your usual perky self?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." She says, just as flatly, and too quickly to be anything but reflex. Ah, you recognize this. The automatic, ingrained response of a noble martyr; a leader insisting on carrying far more than they can on their shoulders, and insisting even harder on keeping any difficulties to themselves. "Just tired. It's been a long week. You know how it is."

An obvious deflection, but you won't get anywhere trying to push it now, so you switch to your usual tactics, and what really interests you: "I sure do. Still, not too tired for a little company, I hope."

You splay yourself further all over the bed; gesturing at you own so-very-inviting body, spreading your legs further, an even more blatant offering. That finally brings out a faint smile out of her, still without her usual chipper energy but at least some kind of reaction: a little breath of laughter that sounds, you're quite pleased, downright incredulous as if to say the question itself is absurd.

"Never." She shakes her head, and you grin back.

"Thought so." You extend a hand towards her and make a beckoning gesture, slowly, with a single finger. "Come here."

And you catch the hesitation and uncertainty passing over her face, the nervous tingle in her smile, the way she fiddles uneasily with her hands. The way you lay upon her bed can't possibly be any more tempting, and you know she's itching to jump on the bed and crawl right into your embrace, herself knowing perfectly well what you're offering and what it's like. But here it is, just as always: that initial hesitation, that self-consciousness radiating off her so potently. It's a constant internal conflict you've seen from the first time you took her to bed, a flame you would think would have been dampened after all this time, yet that you can't seem to put out even if you'd want to. 

But it happens that you rather like things as they are. This so preciously virginal side of her that persists even after you've been sleeping with her for months and weren't even her first. It's all the sweeter when juxtaposed with that undying, unquenchable sex drive that can almost keep up with yours. You're always itching to dig deeper and deeper into the source of this hesitation, this tension— one that is unlikely to have to do solely with your complicated past together. Oh, no, at this point, whatever is on the other side of this conflict, fighting off against her desires, isn't her better judgement. There's a deep baggage there you've only scratched the surface of.

The thought of that, too, delights you. You can only imagine what it will be like, when you finally get to taste it; when you completely expose her very heart, and really sink your teeth into her deepest, hidden, most vulnerable core. Everything that strong, reliable, courageous Captain Djeeta of the Grandcypher would never show even to the ones closest to her.

It's a long-term project, and you're very patient, but looking at her now you get the sense that tonight, you have the opportunity to take the next step. You just need to wait for the right moment. So you let her take her time making the decision, not bothering to urge her on until she finally bends down to take off her shoes and joins you on the bed. She chooses, of course, to modestly sit down on the small bit of space you left unoccupied— one day you'll be sure to wind her up enough to get her to really abandon all dignity, crawl all over you on all fours like an animal, but as a tradeoff, you grab her by the front of her dress, quite deliberately exposing what's underneath to your eyes, and pull her directly towards you.

The indignant glare she sends you is quite fetching, offset wonderfully by the light pink dusting her cheeks, and she slaps your hand away. Before you can reply or make any of the many teasing comments that come to mind, she moves forward on her own, grabbing you by the sides of your face and kissing you, relentless, impatient and frantic— in a way that seems almost forced. But you welcome it the way you always do, stroking the so sensitive nape of her neck, running your hand upwards and through her soft tuffs of golden hair, basking in the heat and tenderness of her mouth.

You take advantage of her distraction to change your positions— press your legs closed again and grab her by the waist to maneuver her onto your lap. She doesn't fight it, only stopping for the briefest second to breathe in some air before pressing her mouth back against yours. Deceptively small, gentle hands grab the collar of your jacket, and she sits up, straddling you, her whole body pressing against yours as she alternates the angle— moaning when you bite at her lip and licking your own, sucking on your tongue when you slide it against hers, responding eagerly to every gesture and action.

The Singularity is as eager in the act itself as she is always hesitant before it. Overeager, in fact, in this case; you feel the distinct tension running through her as you embrace her and tighten your grip over her. But you encourage it, press her tighter against you, meet the enthusiasm of her kisses, bask in how her body feels pressed so close to yours, the weight of it so satisfying on your lap. She's so small against you, and so _soft_, from the little pouch of her belly, to a nice pair of tits just big enough to play with and small enough to still be sensitive, to those pale, perfect thighs that you love having wrapped around your head and neck when you eat her out. Your hands run lower and grab her ass through her skirt, kneading and groping each cheek thoroughly, making her squirm against you even as she refuses to let go of your mouth.

Eventually, though, even you find yourself needing a little air to breathe, which the Singularity seems to have briefly forgotten about in her passions. You let one hand make its regretful, painful parting from one of the many best parts of her to pull her head backwards by the hair, relishing the soft feeling of those silky locks between your fingers and the gasp she makes as she parts from you. Looking her directly in the eye, you watch her catch her breath— while you take your sweet time doing the same so that your voice stays level when you croon: "You have an incredible body, Captain."

Through heavy breaths, her dry tone just barely making it through: "Yeah, I bet you say that to everyone." There is a moment where she looks away from you, one hand letting go of your jacket, then opens her mouth and closes it again. It passes quickly, but not enough for you not to catch it, even more so when you feel the stiffness and tension in her rise, the pair legs she's straddling you with squirming just so without quite changing position.

You _could _release her from whatever is so obviously worrying her and ask her what's on her mind, what is it that she so badly wants to say or ask, and what does it have to do with her mood. But you could also take advantage of this brief distraction. Naturally, you go for the second; with only the brief warning of you grabbing on to her even more tightly, you smoothly flip over your positions, watch her eyes widen in surprise as she falls beneath you on the bed with a cute, startled noise.

You loom over her, each one of your limbs by her sides as if to trap her, and relish the sight beneath you. The Grandcypher's brave and heroic captain, child to the Primal killer himself, the very Singularity who shapes and changes the fate of the very world itself with her actions, a wielder of unimaginable power and the ability to conquer forces beyond any skydweller's imagination, lies beneath you. Disheveled, pink in the face, breathing heavily, glaring all the more charmingly through her fluster, but saying nothing, and that alone is a display of submission, as clear as can be.

You're under no illusion that she's not in this position for any other reason than her wanting to be, even if she might not admit it; her reflexes are good enough to have prevented you from putting her here, and she can fight you off if she wants to. And you, who have never done anything she didn't want you to, would let her. It's where her irritation lies; knowing all the glaring and bristling in the world can't cover up what her actions so clearly communicate.

Grinning from ear to ear, you lean in down and press a kiss to her neck, bask in the full-body shudder you get in reaction. It's lovely, so delicate and pale, and so _sensitive. _You could just stay here like this and get her all worked up just from kissing and sucking and licking and biting all over the delicate flesh, get her aroused and wet from that alone. And you did so, a few times— worked her up to pure carnal desperation without a single touch of your hand, nothing but your mouth on her pretty neck until she started to beg, and you obliged her, spending hours patiently exploring every part of her lovely body, feeling and groping and kneading, praising every inch of skin and burning each one of her reactions into you memory.

It's hard not to repeat that particular performance, but you only tease her, this time, with a hint of the same; an upwards trail of kisses so quick and light as to be almost chaste, and she's so _responsive _to even these light touches, shivering and shuddering so sweetly, that you really have to will yourself to stop long enough to speak.

"It's been a _terribly_ lonely week without you, Singularity." You whisper into her ear, switching back to the old nickname that's now reserved for when the two of you are alone. "And I've been _such_ a good and loyal puppy, waiting patiently for my master to come home for so long. I'd like to have my reward now, if you'd let me." Your hand runs down her neck, caresses the open skin around her collar, not quite reaching her chest.

She scoffs: "I find that hard to believe."

"Mm, which part? The loneliness? Or that I've been patient?"

"Um, both? First of all, you've got this whole ship keeping you company, don't you?"

"What, you expect me to satisfy myself with _them? _Come on. Surely you know that all of them together don't compare to having one of you around."

"Oh, please. Besides, you've been alive for like— what, several thousand years by now, haven't you? What's a week compared to that?"

"An _eternity_ when you aren't here, baby."

At that, the Singularity makes a face. You thought that was pretty good, honestly, but you're used to these kinds of reactions when you bring out your best romantic lines, the way it was with—

"You know, you trying to be romantic is even creepier than your usual... weird, creepy sex pervert self." Mercifully, the Singularity interrupts the unwelcome train of thought before it puts a damper on _your _mood.

"I _am _a romantic, no trying about it. 'Sides, it's fun to mix things up and play the gentlemanly knight once in a while. I'm a versatile kind of man. Bu—ut," You look up, as if deep in thought, and tilt your head, shrugging, "Well, I'd hate to be insensitive to my dearest Singularity's needs. If it's _really_ so off-putting, you just say the word and I'll stop."

She doesn't want you stopping, of course. That you're both these things, satisfying so many needs to her at once, is vital to the reason she lets you into her bed in the first place, but she'd never admit that. "Far be it from me to get in the way of your fun." she mumbles, fully aware of how much she and her crew have dedicated a great deal of time and effort to getting in the way of your fun.

"Well said." The hand around her collar runs down her body, slips slowly, just a little, beneath her skirt. Your lips hovering just above hers, you're seconds away from resuming your previous ministrations when—

"Wait."

Finally gathered the courage, did she? "Hm?"

"Belial. I have a request. For tonight."

Ah, so that's what she was working up to? Not a wonder it took her a while: the Singularity rarely makes requests on her own unless you carefully coax them out of her, usually content letting you take the lead and only intervening when you bring in anything she doesn't want or like. This is going to be good. "Anything you want."

Then, again, there's some of the earlier hesitation, but it doesn't last, and she presses on: "You remember that thing we were talking about trying? The one where you use your powers on me. I want to do that tonight."

_—Ah._

You have to make real effort, for a moment, to contain the dark smile threatening to warp the expression on your face. _That _is something you'd been especially looking forward to trying out, and were _delighted _to discover she was very interested in exploring, but didn't think she'd let you try out nearly so soon. Oh, forget taking another step— this is a _leap! _You'll have to reign yourself in to keep yourself from— in more than one sense, haha!— finishing too soon and ruining it all. You think back to her almost sullen, maybe even melancholy demeanor right before this, and— oh! Oh, this is going to be _fantastic._

"You want me to use my Anagenesis on you tonight?" Your voice is perfectly neutral, a question of simple confirmation, completely out of tune with how positively _giddy _you are inside. Not looking you in the eye, she nods. "This have anything to do with why you're all sulky?" You know the answer before asking, but that's not really the point.

That she doesn't bother to protest with a _I'm not sulky_ speaks volumes in and on itself, instead pressing her teeth harshly, anxiously into her bottom lip before nodding.

"Did something happen this week?"

"Not exactly. It's less something happening and more..." Either she's struggling to find the right words, or to actually say them, but the expression on her face makes the process look downright physically painful. So you throw out your best guess— and your guesses are more often than not quite accurate.

"Feeling blue? Plagued with unhappy thoughts?"

"Yeah." Hesitant, she finally looks back up at you, takes a deep breath, and says: "And I need you to take me out of my own head. To get me to just... stop thinking, and get away from everything that's going on right now for a little while. Just for tonight."

It's almost painful for you, now, having to hold in the overwhelmed, delighted laughter bubbling from within you. Oh, what in the world could you have done to deserve this? All the labor and toil in the world can't have been enough to earn you something like this, to be deserving of _such _a gift. Forget the past two thousand years; if they had gone by for a millennia it wouldn't even compare to the value of this _treasure. _The sight of the Singularity below you, submitting to you so willingly, and then asking you to deepen that submission and to be placed entirely under your control, to take not just her body but her own mind. The way she looks you in the eye, serving herself to you on a platter, and _asks _to be gobbled up in your greedy, hungry mouth— so earnestly, so honestly, saying she _needs you _to help her, to care for her, to make all the awful noise in her head go away.

The thought of what you had to lose in exchange for being here at all— the reason you dragged yourself here— let alone getting this, lurks on the horizon again, like a buzzing insect. It threatens to dampen your enthusiasm, and you squash it between your fingers as soon as you catch it, before it can ruin this moment.

"Sure, I can do that." Your voice is, casual, easy, calm, a contrast to the dark, giddy joy bubbling in you. You brush a lock of hair behind her ear and sigh. "You're having a hard time, aren't you, Singularity? You poor thing."

"Don't condescend me." she snaps, a little bit more like the usual self— though with more real bite than the norm. As good of a _yes _as any.

"I would never, baby. I really do understand. Most people use sex as an escape one way or another, but you can get just that from me anytime, and it's not enough when you're _really _troubled. You need something much more potent to quiet down the noise in your head. Makes perfect sense to me." 

Really, you could pick apart all the very clear, much deeper reasons she might not just enjoy and relish, but _need _something like this— she's such a typical example of a person with a lot of power, and responsibility, that always needs to be in control in daily life, and who naturally gravitates towards the very opposite role in bed.

"Luckily for you, I'm_ very_ good at giving people what they need, and I'm always more than glad to serve."

It's something to see, how the more gentlemanly and tender you are, the more flustered she gets in response— so much more when you're being the leering, perverted villain. "Well," she huffs. "Hope you're not too upset you didn't get your reward." Ah, there she goes. Hiding her own discomfort, again, with making requests, with feeling selfish.

"Oh, are you worried for me? How sweet. But you think this isn't a reward? If anything, this is much better than anything I ever could have hoped for."

She opens her mouth and this time looks like she means to say something for real, but you interrupt her before she can start:

"Now, you remember what I said, right? This isn't going to be quite the exact same charm as what I've used when fighting you way back then. I've adjusted it a bit to suit our purposes more. You'll be a lot more physically functional, rather than completely incapacitated, for one, otherwise there would be no point. And there are more limits to what I can make you do. The way it works, see, is not just that it puts you under my control; it has a very specific kind of effect on your lucidity and state of mind."

She nods. "I remember. You said it's similar to alcohol, and it rids all the target's inhibitions in a similar way."

"That's right. It's as much control as it is persuasion, or suggestion, if you will. Meaning, in addition to being my perfect, obedient, submissive puppet— haha, don't glare at me like that!— you're also going to be completely honest with me and unable to lie, and inevitably say and do a lot of embarrassing things, some of which are also very true to what you really feel normally. Which you're going to horribly regret the morning after, and there's no chance I won't be using all of it to mess with you and tease you in the future."

Her glare dampens into a more long-suffering sort of expression. "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you." She sighs. "Nice of you to warn me. Okay, fine, but can you at least keep it to when we're alone? And not bring up any of it outside of the bedroom?"

"Hey now, that's unfair. I promised I'd keep our clandestine affair a secret, and I've kept all the promises I made to you 'til now, didn't I? Why would I risk that?"

"Well, I don't know. Let's see. Because you don't actually care if we get find out, and you think the risk of being found out is exciting and sexy, and most of all, as you said yourself, you want to mess with me, and embarrass me in front of my closest friends, and my crew, and stir discord when they start mistrusting me and doubting my better judgement? I can think of a lot of reasons."

You actually do burst out laughing this time; nothing she's saying is wrong, really. These _are _things you'd love to do, and would have a lot of fun with. But you still made a promise to her, and you do actually want to keep it if only not to give her reason to mistrust you. And as much as you love fucking with her no less than fucking her, and would love to see all of that, it would actually hurt your standing enough to be a pretty big inconvenience. But she doesn't give you the chance to clarify any of it, which you humbly accept as what you deserve at this point.

"Look, the point is, I don't mind any of that, but I don't want to take a chance on us actually being found out, okay?"

She says it so adorably and pointedly, fixing you with the kind of stare that's just oh so hard to say no to, and with her flat out saying_ I don't mind any of that _so casually to... things she probably should mind, actually? Well, it's things like this that are the reason you've grown to like her this much, and that makes you less inclined to argue the point.

"Fine, fine! I'll just have to use it to mess with you twice as much when we _are _alone. I can handle that much. Hm." You sit back, put a finger to your lips thoughtfully, this time for real. This _is _going to take some improvising, which you're good at, but you'd have rather been given the time to plan this out beforehand meticulously— there's _so much _you can do. "Anything else? Any other requests, specifics, things you want to avoid?"

The question is as much to give you some more to go on as it is just part of your routine at this point; you assume she's not going to ask something like that and give you free reign in what to do with it. The Singularity scrunches up her face thoughtfully— always so alarmingly cute!— then shrugs. "You have a pretty good idea of what I like and don't like at this point, don't you? Just stick to the usual stuff."

Or not. Huh. "Really? Nothing else? Are you sure? That's basically telling me to just do what I want."

"Within the boundaries of what we already negotiated and have always been working within, obviously. But yeah, pretty much. Isn't that just what we usually do?"

"What we usually do doesn't involve me controlling your mind. Actually, do you really understand what you're asking? You know what kind of opening you're giving me here? How I can take advantage of you? I can hurt you, use you to bring down your crew. If I was waiting for my chance to strike, when you're at your weakest and most vulnerable, this would be it."

Whatever you expected her to react with— it's not what she does next. She looks you straight in the eye— that earlier melancholy and tiredness and fluster from the past several minutes all gone as if they never were— easy, calm and confident, and without hesitation, without a silver of doubt, she answers,:

"You won't."

Simple and straightforward. And it actually takes you by surprise in a way only the Singularity can do for you, and to that you don't quite know what to answer.

"And either way, it's more fun if I don't know what exactly you'll do. Speaking from experience..." She tilts her head, a playfully coy innocence in her expression. "Letting you do what you want usually produced pretty good results. Whatever shortcomings you have in your personality, or morals, or anything else, you're pretty good in bed. That's been pretty consistent so far. I expect that to continue even when we change things up."

It breaks you out of your brief stupor enough that you have to laugh again in answer. "O—kay! Good enough for me. Then, in that case, just one last question." You lean in, whisper into her ear what you ask in different variations each time: "Rough, or gentle?"

The Singularity, who expected this, answers steadily enough to clearly have had a long-prepared answer: "Both." Your favorite one, too. It all just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? You could almost think you're dreaming, so unbelievably lucky it all is.

"Good answer." You pull away from her to sit up and clasp your hands. "Alrighty then. You ready?" She nods with a small _yeah. _"Excellent. Sit up, I need you to be facing me directly so I can do this properly." You pull away further, let her sit up, mirroring your position in front of you. "Yeah, like that. Now you might black out for a bit, so be ready for that, but it shouldn't last for very long. Look me in the eye, Singularity."

And she does. There is still that nervous tension radiating off her, but she sits still and faces you wordlessly, her eyes not moving from yours. You gather up the magic, careful, precise, focus it in on the girl in front of you, your eyes catching the movement of her throat as she swallows, just before you aim and release it— "_Anagenesis."_

It's a modest little thing, the charm, when you cast it on its own. Nothing special, really, only the briefest glint of bright pink in your eyes, then mirrored in hers, and it passes quickly enough to be barely noticed. Without it, one wouldn't even notice anything happen if it weren't for the way her own eyes widen and her mouth opens in surprise, the way she blinks in the shock of sensation and draws in a sharp, gasping breath, tensing up— then, that too disappears as soon as it comes. Quickly she deflates, shoulders dropping, eyes slowly closing, a half-asleep state taking hold of her as the magic within her readjusts her to the new reality under your thrall.

You watch her carefully; it lasts for less than a minute— then slowly, slowly her eyelashes flutter open again, taking a few seconds to stay that way, but only halfway so, a dull, blank lack of an expression on her face. You watch her pupils shifting from side to side, moving around but not quite looking, a visible struggle to focus on anything, the way those soft lips part just slightly, breathing in the air around her, let her take her time re-awakening to her current state.

"Singularity?" You prod her, carefully. Her gaze finally seems to find focus, traveling all over the place before she finally catches sight of you and— she blinks several times very quickly, eyes widening as if in shock, and oh, _there _it is.That familiar adoring, captivated, utterly _smitten_ expression the charm always invokes that you never get tired of seeing. Just seeing it on the Singularity makes the spell worth it, even without everything else.

"Belial..." You never get tired of hearing your name from her lips, but the way she says it now- so sweetly, with such bare desperation, the way she only really allows herself when in the very throes of pleasure, is something else entirely.

"I'm right here, Singularity." You press the tips of her fingers to her chin, lightly titling her head towards you, and she all but leans even into that slightest gesture. "How are you feeling?"

"Mm... kind of dizzy... " She squints. "Um, were we in the middle of something? Can't remember..."

This is an expected side effect, too, and will wear off a little bit too, but seeing her in this state is still amusing. "We were about to have some fun together, remember? You asked me to use my Anagenesis on you."

"Oh yeah... yeah, that's right." Her expression relaxes again. "So right now I'm under your control...? Huh. So that's what it feels like."

"That's right. Do you like it?"

"Y-yeah. It's nice. Still kind of dizzy, and it's hard to think, but... really nice." Then her expression shifts back into a squint. "Hey, why are you just sitting there, though?"

"Oh, why do you ask? Is there anything else I should be doing?"

She pouts at you in such a charmingly childish way that she wouldn't _dare _when lucid. "A lot of things! Horrible, bad things! You're supposed to be touching me, and groping me, and saying all sorts of awful, dirty things to me, and stuff."

You pat her on the head like a child and allow yourself a low, languid laugh. "Don't worry, baby. I'll get to that. Be patient." Time to test the waters, then! Ah, but this is _so _difficult. You've got so much power over her, now! And there's _so_ much fun to be had. So many possibilities! Whatever should you start with?

"Singularity."

"Yes?"

"Get off the bed and stand right there." You point behind you, face front to the bed, and she all but throws herself off it without complaint about the further distance, and turn around on on the bed so you're facing her. "Good girl." You move to sit on the edge of the bed, wrap your arms around her as if to embrace, and slip your hands under her skirt.

This time, though, your hands brush her ass only briefly on their way up to her sides; smoothly, you slip her underwear from beneath her skirt. Then you move upwards to her torso and her upper back, your body pressing against hers as she squirms in your arms. It's not hard to find the clasp of her bra on her back and smoothly remove it from beneath her dress without taking to off, guiding her arms all the while to help her out. You drop it behind you on the bed unceremoniously, together with her panties, then sit back again to face her.

"Now pull up your dress, a—ll the way up, and hold it up with your mouth." Completely unhesitating, her hands grab the edges of the skirt into a bundle and pull all the way up to her chin, and puts it between her teeth. Not a sliver of shame, not even the suggestion of self-consciousness. The sight of it might take your breath away. It's gloriously, deliciously exhibitionistic, a lovely, perfect bare body already sweet to the sight completely exposed to you, framed by an incredibly obscene, shameless display from this proper, decent girl who'd never even think to do anything like this in her life.

"Mm." You look her up and down, savoring every inch of bare skin on such blatant display. All of it is lovely to see, from the perfect, pretty tits, cute, soft belly, thick hips and waist, those lovely pale thighs, and— of course, the best part, and your favorite. The soft, pink folds framed by dark golden curls, the most raw and honest part of her where the real magic happens. "You have no idea how delicious you look like right now, Singularity. I'm going to eat you up." You reach out, run your hand up from her thighs to her navel, just brushing fingers and hands against soft skin, never staying in one place. "And so naughty, too. Can you imagine if anyone else saw you like this? They might think you're some dirty little exhibitionist."

And you shove your hand between her legs and press your palm into the lips of her cunt. You feel the intense heat through her labia, relish in the slickness dripping from between the warm, damp folds.

"And already _so_ wet... how filthy. Is that what you really are, Singularity? Deep down, beneath it all? Is our heroic, strong Captain actually just a dirty, slutty girl?" Her thighs tremble around your hand, the wet heat pressed against your palm throbbing, a small, shaky, muffled moan leaving her throat. "Oh, you like me calling you that, didn't you? Now that's interesting. Do you like being called names, Singularity?" 

She makes another small moan around the cloth between her teeth. "You can let go. I wanna hear your answer." And she does, but continues to hold on with her hands, obedient to your earlier command even now.

"I-I do!" She says eagerly, voice trembling in excitement. "I wish you'd do it more! I wish you'd be more mean to me. Even when you're rough with me, you're always holding back. I wish you'd go further."

She's not wrong, and you do usually hold back from going any farther, but more because you don't want to scare her and have her call off your arrangement than anything else. And with her never asking you to go further, you never did quite manage to gauge where she'd draw the line. Here, though... "Really now? Why, Singularity, if that's what you wanted, all you had to do is ask." She couldn't have, and you know exactly why, but this makes the fact that she does now all the better. You remove your hand from between her legs and sit back. "Strip. Completely. I want you as naked as the day you were born."

Breathless, she shoves off her dress so hurriedly you think she might almost rip it, then her socks and hair band with the same rush, not even thinking twice before shoving it all off aside, or even looking where it falls on the floor. You click your tongue, mock-chastising. "Just letting it drop on the dirty floor like that?" Oh, she's going to be_ so _annoyed with herself for that tomorrow, and for that alone you don't tell her to pick it up. Instead, you whisper in her ear— "Are you really so desperate to be fucked that you're acting like a whore?" And in response get the sweetest, most wonderful whimpery noise.

You pull back and look at her, meet a wet smile full of a delirious joy with an affectation of a cold, stern demeanor: "I asked you a question, Singularity."

"Yes! Yes. I am. I'm sorry for being such a... a dirty..." Her whole body trembling like a frightened child, her shaky voice gets smaller and smaller— a mix of desperation, frustration, fear, and still that same overwhelmed joy on her face. And you, in spite of yourself, in spite of your amusement at watching her struggle to get out such bad, _bad _words even in such an uninhibited state, take pity on her, pressing a single hushing finger to her lips.

"Shhhh. There, there. Don't you worry, Singularity; I'm glad that you're that way. I like this side of you as much as I like all the other sides of you, see? " Her expression relaxes, and you just _feel _her potent relief. "_There _we go. Don't worry about a thing. Don't even try thinking; I'll be doing that for you, tonight. Forget everything except me, focus on me, and just listen to what I say. Can you do that for me, baby?" Another eager nod. "Excellent. Now, why don't you kneel down for me?"

Instantly, she drops straight down, settling into the pose comfortably, hands pressed together on top of her lap. She looks up at you with a beatific smile, shifting in excitement, all enthusiastic and impatient, so that her cute little ass juts out as she sways it from side to side, just so, seemingly without even thinking. A cute little puppy wagging its tail. Gently, you pet her on the head, stroke her hair, the side of her face, under her chin, and she closes her eyes, leaning into it. The sight of her completely naked and so happy to be on her knees beneath you, leaning into your every touch and every demeaning gesture, is something you're going to carry with you for the rest of existence.

"You're being _such_ a good pet, Singularity. Maybe that's what I should do? Steal you away and keep you aaaaaaall to myself. Wouldn't that be the life? No work, no responsibility, no fighting... first, I'll make sure to fuck your brains out, train all that resistance and attitude out of you. Until you're this honest and mindlessly obedient even without my Anagenesis, and your cunt is always wet and dripping. You can sit on my cock for hours, and I'll keep you all fucked out and happy and content every day."

If only you could! If only stealing her away from her current life wouldn't send her entire crew after you, and mean a very not-fun life on the run that wouldn't work well with the sort of tranquil eternity you'd rather give her. But you also well know that you'd get bored by a permanently pliant and submissive Singularity once the initial satisfaction and novelty of managing to tame her wore off. Plenty of fun, of course, to break such a rare, seemingly indestructible treasure, but wasteful for the same reason. You'd have a hell of a time finding another person in the world like her.

The Singularity herself clearly likes the idea no less than you. She makes _such _a wonderful sound then, moaning as if the words on their own are as good as any real fucking. "Please..."

"Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Singularity? It wouldn't even really be stealing you away. You'd go with me gladly, right? And let me make you completely mine?"

"Yes! Yes, of course, Master, sir! Anything!"

—Well now. Beyond the pleased little stir your cock makes at being called_ Master,_ this is interesting.

"Oh? Now, where's this coming from? I don't remember telling you to call me that."

"But you _are_ my Master, sir." She says as though the thing is obvious, a little bit of confusion passing over her face. "Of course I'd call you that."

Oh, seeing her say it like that... how hard it is not to ignore your curiosity and just play along, see where else she could take it, but you have another idea in mind that might be even better. She's clearly falling all the deeper into the trance the charm puts her under, and things from quite deep within her surfacing now, easily, spurred by the arousal and with none of her inhibition, repression, or self-control to hold them down. You crouch down, just a bit closer to eye level, and ask innocently: "And where in the world did you get that idea, sweetness? I never said it to you, did I?"

"You didn't?" The main thing you wanted to see was how she'd react to the question, and find to your delight that her brow furrows and she frowns, clearly trying to remember herself, her head tilting as she puts a finger in her lips. "... Yeah, I guess you didn't. Then why did I..."

Seeing her working her brain so hard through the sweet fog of the charm and her own arousal at once, trying her best so pitifully to get something out of her now oh-so-empty pretty little head... you almost feel sorry for her. Still, you're impressed when she manages, even after quite some time, to actually dig up some answer: you see her eyes widen briefly for a second as the realization passes clearly over her face with a whispered a little_ oh_ of surprise. "I think, sir, that I've always wanted to call you that."

Ah, as you thought. Really, though, it was so worth it— to have her to say so herself, so blithely, so cheerfully! "And do you have a lot of things you've always wanted but don't tell me about, Singularity?"

"Oh, yes! Well, maybe not a lot. And I can't remember what exactly. But I know that there are!"

"I'm sure it'll come back to you eventually. Now, Singularity." You sit back up and spread your legs, your hand on the back of her head to pull her closer to the bulge in your pants. "Be a good girl and suck your Daddy's cock, and I'll give you a reward."

The Singularity practically throws herself to the task. She fumbles quite a bit, poor thing, struggling to get your pants open and your belt out of the way; you can't imagine what an extraordinarily complicated task it must be for her right now. You enjoy the sight of her growing frustration for a bit before you give her a little helping hand with the more complicated bits, but only just so; you want her to be the one to unzip you herself. It pays off with the most adorable noise that she makes when she finally succeeds and her eyes widen at the sight of your cock springing out, unhidden by any underwear, and you have to hold back laughter at the look on her face.

"Now what's with that reaction? You'd think you've never seen it before." You press a hand into her hair on the side of her head, first holding on to her hair gently, then tugging with just a bit more force. "Open wide, Singularity." She opens her mouth with a little _ah _noise and closes her eyes. "There we go." With another hand, you grab her by the hair on the other side of her head, and slide her onto your cock.

The sensation of it has you gasping out unashamedly in delight, the sensation of her mouth almost overload on your senses, and you close your eyes and throw your head back on reflex, unable to contain yourself. You slide her in deeper and deeper up until your reach her throat— she's much more relaxed than the few previous times you've done this, and you can feel it in her much looser mouth, too, so you allow yourself the risk of going deeper than you normally would. She still can't cover the entirety of your cock that way, but she makes up for it quite well; her tongue sliding around every bit of you she can reach, her throat contracting around the head and the tip and hitting every most sensitive spot, her lovely little hands stroking everything her mouth can't reach with just as much enthusiasm.

And it all feels absolutely goddamn _incredible. _Girl's got a real talent for this; she's not as good as you, of course, but only because she hasn't had enough practice. Otherwise, she's a natural, knowing just how move her tongue, how to hit every perfect spot, when to pull away and then come right back. It's not long before you're trembling with pleasure, before you're moaning loud and deep and your breaths turn quick and heavy, and you breathe out, "Oh, yes... that's right, baby, just like that." Your body almost slips out of your control, your legs itching to wrap themselves around her and pull her closer and deeper.

But you rein yourself in just enough to look down and open your eyes again, to the most exquisite sight of the Singularity beneath you, with your cock in her mouth and her hands and fingers stroking you, drool dripping down her chin, her lips wrapped tightly around you, subtly twitching, her eyes closed with a downright blissful look on her face. "Tastes yummy, doesn't it? You like my cock, sweetheart?" She responds with a low hum that vibrates from the top to all the way down to the base that's more than enough answer for you.

The onslaught of pleasure builds up quickly, like this, and as you sense your climax grow closer, you start to move entirely on your own, shifting your hips back and forth on the bed into her mouth, first slow and steady, then rough, crude, the noises coming from your throat steadily growing louder and more and more obscene, hands fisting into her hair to hold her head in place, her mouth still working relentlessly, her hands trembling around you as her own movements and touches grow more clumsy. The very second before it peaks, you tug on her hair to pull her off your cock; mouth slack, she lets it slip out right in time for your come to squirt all over her face.

It's the most gloriously undignified and filthy you've ever seen her, and this, too, is a sight you'll always keep with you, etch deep into your memory. The Singularity is breathing heavily, red-faced and watery-eyed, eyes closing on reflex when it lands near her eye. It covers her face, mixing in with tears and drool. She makes a little disgusted noise and scrunches her face in discomfort when some of it lands in her mouth; she spits it out on her hand, but looks even more displeased and uncomfortable now that her hand is what's dirty, yet does nothing.

"Seems I can't make you like the taste no matter what, huh?" You huff, somewhat resignedly amused. "And here I was thinking I should make you swallow and drink it all down, this time." If the charm isn't enough to persuade her otherwise, well, either her memory of the one time you came in her mouth is just burned that deeply into her subconscious, or the very idea to her is repulsive enough to break through it. Probably both?

She looks up at you, frowning. "I would do that if you told me to, but even though it's you, sir, I don't think I'd enjoy it. It... " She sighs and pouts. "... doesn't taste good. Besides, I like it when you come on my face or my body much more."

The blunt admission cracks out a laugh out of you. "Fair enough! I much prefer it when you're enjoying yourself as much as I am, Singularity. Ah, and speaking of which, you deserve the reward I promised you for doing _such _a good job. But first, let's get you all cleaned up." You motion upwards with your fingers. "Stand."

Instantly, she gets up to her feet. You grab her hand and lick away the bit of your come still staining in it, then maneuver her onto your lap for a better angle, and proceed to give the same treatment to the come covering her face. You move slow and languid across her pretty face and soft skin, lap up every damp, bitter bit, even catching some of the lovely, slightly salty tears and her own saliva mixed in. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she struggles to sit still in your lap, but doesn't fight or protest the treatment; you pull away with a single lick of your lips when you're done, meet her heavy-lidded, hazy eyes, wide pupils making her eyes look dark with arousal.

It's completely on impulse, seemingly out of nowhere, that you whisper, "Who do you belong to?"

Instant and unhesitating, she answers, "You, Master."

"That's right. Get on the bed and lie on your back."

You release her and let her get down from your lap, and she eagerly complies. You stand up to watch her settling her head comfortably on the pillow, shuffling as she seems to struggle to decide where to put her arms and legs. She looks so small on the much bigger bed that had to replace her old one to accommodate your size, and it makes the view you get of this lovely girl lying on her back, waiting, eager in anticipation, legs twitching from side to side excitedly, all the better. And what a funny little reversal of your positions from earlier tonight.

Slow and languid, you settle your knee on the bed, and then climb on towards her until you're straddling her legs with your own. Once again, you loom over her, trapping her between your limbs, but this time, she lies beneath you like an unwrapped present, a sweet fruit, perfectly ripe and all ready for you to sink your teeth into.

"I'm going to give you your reward, now, Singularity. But first, there's just one more thing I need from you. And that's to hear you beg." You lean in and whisper into her ear exactly the words you want to hear from her, delivered in the most distant, aloof affect imaginable. You pull away and meet her eye, expectant, but expressionless, cold, and the Singularity, who swears easily yet stutters and turns red instantly trying to utter a very particular set of words, eagerly pleads:

"Please eat my pussy, Master!"

Pressing a little kiss into her hairline, chaste, gentle, you give your approval: "Good girl." And cementing it with a bright smile, you receive an equally dazzling, beaming smile back, right as she bursts into a fit of adorably near-hysterical giggles.

Something about that reaction spurns you on all the more. You have no patience to tease her or take your time; it'll be a few minutes still before you can get properly hard again, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy her in the meantime, before your body awakens and catches up with you. So you indulge yourself feeling her up, nipping at her neck, worrying at the tender, sensitive flesh while your hands cup her pretty little breasts. You play with them, squeezing and caressing and bouncing them in your hands, playful gestures that turn into harsh grabbing and kneading. You give her nipples the same treatment; take one into your mouth, sucking gentle and slow, lovingly lavishing it with your tongue, taking it between your teeth as your other hand pinches and plays with its counterpart.

And then, you move lower, leave her nipples hard and rosy-red from the assault of your fingers and mouth, pressing kisses down to her stomach. Lower, and lower, until you reach the little trail of soft little hairs leading down to the base of her pubic mound, and then, there it is, finally— that lovely, heavenly place between her legs. Her cunt, swollen and throbbing with arousal, desire and need, so wet her fluids drip onto the bedsheets, dying for your touch, for your fingers, tongue, and cock. You play a little bit with the folded lips, gather up some of the slickness seeping from them onto your finger, tease her before you spread her open and sink your face between her legs.

Immediately smell and taste of her assault your senses, and both of them are absolutely fucking intoxicating, juicy, sweet and potent. You take a deep whiff of her, a heavy breath through your nose, and it almost makes you dizzy on its own, goes right down to your cock. You can never get tired of it; you know very well how to do this by now, diving comfortably right in with your tongue on her clit, licking and sucking and kissing it, only pulling away to give her so needy hole some attention, replacing your tongue with a finger that presses into the little nub, rubbing it in circles as you slide your tongue inside to get a proper taste of her sweet honey at its source.

From sweet gentle sighs and moans, the sounds from her grow louder and louder. An endless litany of pleasured cries, unrelenting, unstoppable, one after the other, spurning you on, encouraging you to fuck her with your mouth and tongue, more and more, harder and harder. Soothing, you press your hands into her hips, her trembling soft thighs, what you can reach of her ass when she raises her flailing legs. Sometimes you allow a wondering hand to stroke the parts of her your mouth doesn't reach; a gentle press and massage of her perineum, which she responds to quite nicely; playing a little bit with her other hole, which draws out a funny look on her face. You would gladly spend hours here, just like this, with her everywhere around you, surrounded by her taste and smell, the sound of her voice, heady and raw, her lovely delicate skin beneath your hands, drinking in every one of her reactions.

She's been itching for it from the moment you pulled her into her lap, and now, with you finally giving her the touch she's longed for, it doesn't take very long for her to start to reach the peak of pleasure. She falls apart so wonderfully under the ministrations of your fingers and mouth; her voice grows hoarse as she trembles and spasms beneath you, wilder and wilder the closer and closer she gets, until her voice breaks on a wanton cry, back arching, whole body flailing wildly, squeezing your head mindlessly between her thighs. Her cunt throbs and pulsates like a heartbeat beneath you, against your mouth, the come that has entirely covered your mouth and chin joined by another sticky surge. You let your mouth keep working on a bit more, continuing to work her through her orgasm, mindful of the point where the overstimulation crosses into pain instead of pleasure, and stop only to bask in the sight of her.

Panting and breathing heavily as if after a long run, her skin covered with a fine sheet of sweat. Her pretty, delicate face, flushed and heady, her hair a mess, her eyes glazed over, as she slowly comes down from the high of climax and settles into a soft, fucked-out pliancy. You lie beside her and simply watch her for a moment, a comfortable silence settling over the room, filled only with the sound of her gentle breathing and yours to match. You give it a minute or two before breaking the quiet, gently, by crooning to her in a low voice: "Wasn't that nice, Singularity? Now, what do you say?"

"Yeah... it was amazing. Thank you, Master." A cute little giggle escapes her again. "I've always wanted to say that."

It's infectious, her unrestrained joy and delight, unfiltered by self-consciousness or her better judgement. By the end of tonight your facial muscles will be downright strained, hurting from laughing so much and smiling so hard. Why didn't you do this sooner? Or at least try to persuade her to it before this? Knowing now, as you do, how damn responsive she is, how submissive she can become, how willing to turn into your pet, your toy.

You still intend to fuck her properly, of course, but you don't feel any particular hurry at the moment. She's always been a sight for sore eyes, but like this she's all the more enthralling. You would happily spend as much time just looking at her here, right now, like this, as you would spend between her thighs. What an odd thought that is, but you welcome it. It's strange, and different, and fun, to feel that way; you've never felt it before with any of your one night stands, to be sure, even the ones you really liked. Maybe not even anyone else you've slept with. It's the first conceivable thing you've found that's new, and interesting, the first thing to make the world a little less boring again.

How ironic, then, that the person who gets impatient is not you, but her. After a while she opens her eyes, and looks to you, brow furrowed. "... Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Um, was that it? Aren't you going to....?"

"Well, I don't know. Do you think you've got another one in you, Singularity? How long do you think you go on tonight?"

"As long as you want me to, sir!"

"And what if I said we're done here?"

Her face falls. "Oh. Okay."

She sounds so disappointed and resigned you can barely contain yourself or keep playing coy for even another minute, and burst out laughing. "Hey, hey, that was a joke. Just wanted to see what you'd do. Don't you worry, I'd never leave it at that, not when I know how insatiable you are. But if you don't mind..." you press a kiss into her ear. "I'm going to start getting a little more mean soon, like you wanted. Be ready."

She doesn't even chastise you for messing with her, even though she has the full right to. Instead her face lights up, and she responds eagerly to your ministrations, making lovely, happy little mewling noises when you bite and nip at her ear, sink your teeth into her neck, press your finger between her lower lips and start playing with her clit again. She's obviously raring to go again, but you're not the kind of man to try stick it in when she's still tight and dry without getting her properly aroused and stimulated first; to think there's skydwellers who think the act of penetration itself is substitute for any kind of actual stimulation, who think foreplay is unnecessary! Really, it's an insult, a disgrace to the very concept of sex, to have idiots like that attempting at it. You're quite offended on its behalf! Even you, as shamelessly selfish as you are in your intent, know well not to actually focus on your own pleasure alone in the process.

You feel her up up and down, let your hands and mouth run over every part of her body top to bottom, roll her over on the side and explore her vulnerable, sensitive back that's been criminally untouched until now; run your fingers and mouth from the nape of her neck to the dimples on her lower half, grope her ass and play with the tight puckered hole between those soft cheeks, leave bruises and bite marks on her thighs. By the end, when you have her on her back again, kissing her ankles and the top of her foot in sweet reverence, your erection is back in full force and her patience is quite clearly running out. It makes you grin from the foot of the bed at the pleading pout she sends your way. You leave the bed briefly, just to stand up and to start stripping what remains of your clothes, giving her a single, final, command:

"Ass up, face down, Singularity."

As soon is you're done speaking, she rolls over on her stomach, raises her hips into the air, presses her head into the sheets and turns it to look at you. Her knees set far apart, her legs open and presenting both her holes to you, one clearly wet and dripping; the sight of it so lewd and provocative it would make you fully erect in one go if you weren't already.

You take your jacket off, shove away your pants and belt, and let them all drop to the floor next to the bundle of her own clothing. "I didn't tell you to spread your legs, did I?" You eye her up, give her naked ass a little smack; it's only a light hit compared to the full force of your strength, but you like the little pink mark it leaves, the way it makes her legs tremble, the surprised but clearly not displeased expression it draws out of her. "And it comes to you so naturally... or is it that you just can't control yourself? I thought you were an insatiable nympho, but maybe it's not even that? Maybe you're just a mindless animal in heat."

She draws in a sharp breath. "T-that's right... so, please, sir..." With slightly clumsy movements, she hooks her hands by the wrists onto the backs of her knees and spreads her legs wider, and whimpers, sweet, desperate, pitiful: "I need it..."

Fingers digging harshly into her hips, you place a hand each by the sides of her waist to hold on to her as you line yourself up, laughing low and deep. "_Look _at you! Not even trying to deny it. In that case, I've changed my mind. Get on all fours, and I'll give you the kind of fucking an animal like you needs."

Eagerly, she shifts her position, raising her upper half to support herself by her hands instead. You line up closer, the tip of your cock brushing the lips framing her hole, draw in the moment of anticipation, watch her struggle to shift and move as your grip on her waist tightens and grows cruel, harsh, your full strength keeping her tightly in place. You can feel her, intense pounding of her heart, a hurried beat loud within the silence, and soon realize that there's a similar, swift thrumming from you— the place where the source of your own pumping blood lies. It's that thought that precedes you finally breaking the tension by thrusting and slipping inside her in one smooth movement.

If her mouth feels incredible, then her cunt feels like heaven. Wet and slippery and _perfect_, just loose and open enough to let you in, and then tightening and coiling around your cock in the most wonderful way. You can't hold in the gasp that bursts out of you, the sensation of how those slick wet walls squeeze you, drawing and sucking you in, her body pleading and calling you to go deeper. You follow that plea and listen to the sound of her quickening breaths the deeper and further you slide in, and the second you reach as deep as you can go, pull out and then thrust right back in, a sharp, swift motion.

Like that, you set the harsh, punishing pace, fuck her with rough and relentless thrusts, making loud smacking noises every time your hips slap against her ass. Unrestrained, you allow yourself to do what you always wanted and spank her, once, then twice. She moans beautifully, pain and pleasure at once, and you feel her reaction in the glorious sensation of her throbbing around your cock, sending shockwaves through your whole body all the way up to your head and leaving you dizzy.

"Mm... can you feel it, Singularity? Your sloppy little cunt clinging to me, each time I move in and out... it doesn't want to let me go." You fist your hand into her hair and tug at it, at first just to hear more of those little pained noises. After a moment or two, you pull her closer to you by the hair until her back is nearly touching your chest, even as she flinches and squeals. That too gets a rather nice reaction that you feel around your cock, and you keep on thrusting, holding her in place with one hand gripping her waist as you continue in with the same rhythm.

When you turn her head to the side to meet her gaze, her eyes are rolled over and more glazed over and unfocused than ever, pupils so dilated as to barely leave a trace of color, mouth slack and open. You want to kiss that pretty mouth, tenderly, lovingly, but that's not the game right now. "Oh, that's a nice face you're making." You get no reaction. You wonder if she can even hear or at least register what you're saying, and laugh.

Experimentally, you relax your vice grip around her waist and instead move your hand downwards, between her legs, your arm still pressed against her in lieu of holding her in place, and start stroking her clit. She gasps hoarsely and squeezes her eyes shut. "Good, right?" She makes a vague noise as if struggling to speak or verbalize herself at all. You take it as yes. "Don't worry, you don't have to answer. I can see you're having a hard time talking right now."

Then you shove her back down on all fours, and watch her clumsily try to re-support herself through your endless assault on her body, and keep talking even as your voice grows hoarse and breathless from exertion. "You just turn into a proper animal with a cock inside you, don't you? Obedient like a puppy, squealing like a pig, horny like a bunny. You even have that white outfit with the rabbit ears, right? You always do look like a cute little bunny, hopping and skipping, when I have you bouncing on my cock."

Your lean until your body is pressed directly to hers, your chest to her back, the difference in size making it easy to reach her and speak into her ear. "I'll get you a collar, something shiny and pretty, and have you wear it all day around your neck. Everyone will see and know just what you are and who you belong to, and I'll make sure to show them, too." Your voice drops another octave, a low, dark, rumble— "I'll fuck you in front of your whole crew, so they can all see and hear the lewd faces and noises you make, and they'll know their pure, admirable Captain is a dirty animal who's become nothing more than my fucktoy."

She really, _really _likes that. She likes it so much that it pushes her over the edge and she comes with the loudest noise you've heard from her yet. You feel her orgasm in the throbbing pulsations around your cock, a whole other height of intensity that pushes you right alongside her before you even have the moment to realize that you were this close. You grasp her tightly through both your orgasms, your mind going blank, vision going white, blood pounding through your whole body, rumble a deep, content moan as you spill inside of her, and stay still like this just long enough to make sure her pussy is nice and full before you let go of her entirely. She wobbles on her knees and hands for a bit before collapsing down on her stomach, limbs weak and pliant.

Then she turns her head, and you see, through her heavy eyelids, in her hazy, tired eyes— tears. Ah. First, only a slight wet glint, but then more begin to come, spilling down her cheeks like little gems leaving a wet trail behind them. You had never seen her _this _vulnerable before, had never seen her cry or even thought she could, and it's sweet and lovely and _adorable._ And yet, an odd reaction. You're caught between being delighted and curious. Maybe that was all a little much after all? Enough for her to lose sight of where the line between play and reality was.

That thought has you more displeased than you thought it would. It's not a big deal, but something about the thought of it— that what was meant to be as fun for her as it was for you, or at least close, instead crossed the line and got to her— there's something you don't like about it. And it's more than just an annoying, oopsie-daisy little bummer. That's a reaction to unpack later. Gently, you turn her over on the side, help her settle more comfortably so as to face her, and whisper: "Singularity?"

"Belial..." You can see her eyes turn to look at you, still glittering with tears, her expression vague and unfocused.

"What's up, Singularity? Where are those tears coming from?"

You've used a faux-sympathetic voice so many times in your existence. Before the rebellion, talking to the primarchs, to other angels. After the rebellion, soothing the people you'd bring to your bed who would cry about their problems and who you'd leave behind by next morning. Or those you'd just befriend and seduce for purely utilitarian reasons. You can make a very convincing imitation of care and kindness and sympathy. The voice you use now with her is nothing like that so-very-fake voice, gentle in a way that's so much more foreign and yet so much more sincerely yours.

"I'm...?" She blinks, and her eyes water again, and she seems to realize for the first time what's happening. "Oh... oh, I'm sorry..."

"Now that's nothing to apologize for. Why don't you just tell me what's wrong? Did you not like that?"

Vehemently, she shakes her head. "No, it was great... and I... I don't know what's happening, it felt really good, a-and I... I really liked it..." Her voice trembles around the words, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. "So why do I... why am I so...." she curls in on herself, wrapping her arms around her body not as if trying to protect herself, but as if to hide herself from view— from yours, as well as her own, almost as if repulsed by the sight of it. "I feel like I'm... like my body is..."

Watching her like this, the little fragments of sentences. All the things you saw of her over the past couple of months— it all snaps together into place, just like that. You think you know what the word she's looking for to end that sentence with, and against all odds you almost wonder if you should not have used it yourself no matter how much she liked it in the moment. The root of her hesitation, the baggage she's carrying, the hangups, the _shame_— not just the shame in itself, but the depths to which it runs.

It's such an extraordinary normal, banal thing. You've seen it so many times in the people you've taken to bed, the ideas they get into their heads without even knowing, absorbing it from those around them, and how it comes spilling out years later as they grow and start to hate themselves and their bodies for having these needs and wants. All the creative ways skydwellers fuck each other up without even trying that Astrals and primals couldn't even conceive to on their own. To think even the Singularity would carry something so _normal _with her.

But this was what you wanted, wasn't it? To expose her like this. To see her at her most vulnerable, most pained, to bring it out and taste it for yourself, and feast on her churning, painful, horrible emotions. Bring it out of her, push every button, watch her suffer and be tortured by the thoughts within her own head and push her deeper into that until she breaks. She looks so adorable, vulnerable, so weak, and you want to be cruel, to make her cry more, to see how far you can push her. Take advantage of this trust, your instinct tells you, and crush her heart in your hands in front of her very eyes.

And that urge rises in you now, but alongside it, another urge, too. The most bizarre desire to nurture her. To care, to indulge, to spoil with affection and kindness. How wonderful would it be to see her lose herself in weakness as you comfort her, to see her find solace in your arms— yours, of all people! You crave more of that vulnerability, to see her barriers break down for you willingly, to see what happens when she shows your heart to you and exposes her barest, most vulnerable self willingly, and receives the care she longs for and needs, completely on the opposite end of anything that's expected from you, and...

... And in the end, the thought that you know full well what's better for you in the long run is what stops you. You can imagine the consequences for really, truly doing some damage to her, and that's the last thing you need right now. So you give in to the side of yourself you never knew could be this strong; gently, you cup her face in your hands, kissing each little droplet as it runs down her cheeks.

"B... Belial... I.... I... I'm..." she murmurs in a small, barely audible voice, with a small, choked sob.

"Shhhh." You soothe her, stroke her cheeks, cradling and caressing her delicate, teary face. "I'm right here with you, sweetness." Her tears keep coming, and you don't stop either; you catch every precious, salty droplet you see, like each one is a treasure, stopping in between only to whisper sweet, soothing, comforting words, until her heavy breaths subside, until the shakiness of her body and the sounds of her little sobs fade away. You pull her closer and cradle her in your arms, resting a hand on the back of her head and stroking her hair.

"Thank you, Singularity. You've done very well tonight, and it was wonderful. You're quite tired, aren't you? I can tell, poor thing. Why don't you go to sleep now? I'll stay right here with you."

"Huh? But I thought... I though we'd go on for longer... I want one more. I need more..."

"Now, now. You're obviously exhausted and in no shape for that. We have a lot of time tomorrow, right? We'll talk about this like adults next morning, and then we can have another go. Okay?"

With a soft exhale, she relents. It's hard to tell if she really is disappointed or if even she's realized by now just how tired she is, but she doesn't say anything else. You shift a little to make this position more comfortable for both of you, and settle into silence, listening to her soft breathing slow as you wait for her to fall asleep.

Meanwhile, you're struggling not to let your mind wander to the wrong places, to not think about all the ways things are different tonight, about how unlike yourself you are and how unlike yourself you feel. How this person comes closest to making you feel in a way that's only one, long-gone person has before, how you came to her because you lost him and as much as you hate to think of it in those terms, maybe had no where else to go.

In the end, you break the silence with a question as much as to settle down those thoughts as it is because you've always wanted to know the answer, and know you can get it now.

"Say, Singularity." Her breathing is quick enough that you can tell she hasn't fallen asleep yet, so you prompt her unworried that you might wake her.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me something. Do you _really _trust me?"

"Hm...? What do you mean?"

"You really think I've changed? Been converted to the pure and righteous path? That I'm a good boy now, and won't betray you the second I get the chance?"

She raises her head to look up at you, blinks as if surprised, then answers: "I think you might do all sorts of terrible, awful things to me, mess with my head, all to have fun. I don't think you've changed or that you want to change. But I know you won't cross the line to actually betray me."

You don't ask her what makes her think that. It's a bit vexing to think that she knows just as well as you do why you came here, but everybody knows the circumstances. It shouldn't be too hard even for her to come to the conclusion of why you won't, or maybe just can't, leave.

But maybe that's fair. I'll show you mine if you show me yours; that's how this kind of thing works. Perhaps this is righteous punishment, expecting that you can drag her heart out and expose it without exposing something of yourself. It never has worked like this for you before, but then, you've never had a partner like her.

No, what bothers you is that you're starting to find other reasons to stay. That if by some miracle, you were to get him back, you're not actually sure what you'd do.

Ah, who cares. Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow she'll wake up, back to her usual, cheerful but sensible and rebellious self. You'll see her reaction when she remembers all the horribly embarrassing stuff she got up to, and you'll have the time of your life teasing her and reminding her about it. It'll be great, and fun, as it always is, and even outside of the bedroom, this new life as a part of her crew isn't bad at all.


End file.
